Just Plain Sick
by you may say that I'm a dreamer
Summary: Jim wakes up early one morning feeling a bit poorly and needs a bit of TLC from a certain best friend and doctor. No slash at the moment but may change in further chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:**  
**I do not in any way own or take claim to any of the Star Trek characters or plots. I just use the characters to satisfy my imagination.**

**So I was sick a little while ago and it inspired me to try my hand at writing a sick fic because I think they're cute and fluffy. Although there's only Jim in this chapter I do aim to include Bones and possibly some Spock in the next/later chapters. Not really sure where this is going yet so all ideas are welcome. Please let me know of any errors as it is not Beta'd, I have tried my best to correct any so far. Please be kind, first fiction ever.  
**

Jim was pulled from the depths of sleep as he tossed and turned in the heavy strangling sheets on his bed. Something wasn't right. He felt hot and sweaty and was exhausted from the little sleep that he had managed to get so far.

As he opened a bleary eye to look at the alarm clock beside his bed he felt something stir within him. It was three in the morning. His stomach felt jittery and was gently rolling causing him to feel slightly uncomfortable as he turned onto his side, ridding the warm sticky sheets from his body. His mouth was dry and he could taste something that resembled butter that caused him to feel lightheaded and sickly even though he was lying down.

When a gentle stab of pain caused Jim to emit a soft gasp he knew that something was wrong. The pain was quickly becoming stronger and he struggled to take natural breaths as he tossed onto his other side, trying to combat the pain.

It didn't immediately occur to Jim that he was sick. He never panicked when he was in pain and he really hated people giving him sympathy and attention when he was ill. God, he even disliked doctors and hospitals. A lot. But as the pain in his stomach steadily got stronger he felt a small pang of fear.

Jim sat up as another stab of pain took his breath away; it was really bad and made him feel weak and nauseous. "Lights twenty per cent," he commanded in a soft voice as he felt for the drawer handle on his bedside table. He pulled it open and found the small box of painkillers the he often kept handy. They miraculously were one of the limited medications that he wasn't allergic to.

Clutching the small package, Jim pulled himself off of the bed and stumbled into the small bathroom in his quarters. He filled a cup with water and popped two of the small white pills into his mouth, washing them down with the cool clear water.

It felt like an eternity before Jim finally fell back into his bed and regathered the forgotten pile of sheets by his feet. He still felt like he was overheating but was shivering with sudden cold at the same time. He pulled the sheets tighter around himself and groaned softly as fresh pain stabbed in his abdomen.

As Jim suddenly remembered the soft glow of the artificial lights filling the room, a familiar watery sensation filled his mouth and his stomach painfully threatened to squeeze as he jumped out of his bed and raced into the small bathroom, hanging his head over the basin.

Nothing happened at first and minutes passed by as the dishevelled captain held himself over the white basin as his stomach performed flips and jumps, throbbing with new and greater pain every second. Before too long Jim felt that familiar feeling and his stomach painfully squeezed again as its contents were forced up and he retched into the small basin.

The bile burned his throat and was disgustingly bitter, making him even more nauseous just thinking about it. The rancid aroma filled the small bathroom and Jim couldn't control himself as the smell set off another bout of vomiting. This time it was more intense and caused him to shudder with exhaustion at the physical effort. When Jim could no longer expel liquid, dry heaves ravaged him and again he shuddered with exhaustion as the extreme pain of retching forced warm salty tears to dribble down his pale, hot cheeks.

He hated it when he was sick. Jim Kirk was no stranger to pain and often drove his doctor and best friend Bones to the point of sheer despair on a regular basis. Despite this, Bones understood Jim and although it had taken a long time, Jim had finally let down his walls and allowed Bones to see the side of him that he fought to keep hidden from everyone else. The Jim who was lonely and scared and the Jim who craved to just be held and comforted, the Jim who grew up with nothing.

This was the person that was kept hidden behind the smart arse, cocky, "I don't believe in no-win situations" Captain mask.

Jim released his vice like grip on the edge of the basin and slowly sagged to the ground as his suddenly weak legs threatened to collapse entirely. He was so tired and he felt heavy and weighted as he closed his eyes and rubbed away the now cold tears as he attempted to pull himself up into a sitting position on the cool floor.

He wasn't quite ready to stand yet and he felt his vision swim as he pulled his head up and took a deep breath to calm his senses. When his vision settled, he slowly made his way into a standing position and step by step made his way back to his bed.

Jim lowered himself onto the mattress and as he pulled the covers up he noticed that the stabbing pain had disappeared. Perhaps he had eaten something that hadn't agreed with him but whatever it was, it was gone now. As the exhaustion of the past half an hour settled in, Jim felt his heavy eyelids close and he was lulled into the realms of sleep, desperate to catch the last moments of rest before his next shift began.


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER:**  
**I do not in any way own or take claim to any of the Star Trek characters or plots. I just use the characters to satisfy my imagination.**

**********

Wow. Thanks for the comments and ideas so far, I didn't think that people would like it. Thought I'd get another chapter up as I go back to school soon. Again, I'm sad that there's limited Bones action in this chapter but I will make it up in the next one, I promise! This chapter is slightly in response to one of the reviewers comments; sorry I don't know your name! Just putting it out there that Jim does not have cancer or any terminal illness, I don't write stuff like that. I would tell you what he has now but that's Bones' job…on with the story! Please let me know of any mistakes, it's late at night here.

When the cramping pain in his stomach returned after ten minutes, Jim moaned quietly in his light sleep and rolled onto his side trying to maintain what little sleep he had gotten. Unfortunately, the pain was back with a vengeance and Jim soon found that the only comfortable position he could get into was lying on his side with his head hanging over a bucket that he had found under his bed.

He felt completely horrible and moving even a finger was proving to be too much of an effort for the exhausted captain. Nausea rolled over him in waves and he squeezed his eyes tight, willing away the pain that was assaulting him. He could still taste the overbearing disgusting buttery taste in his mouth but he tried not to think of it as he nearly lost control every time that he did.

Jim was desperately thirsty and was weighing up the pros and cons of taking just one sip of water but before he even got to reaching for the cup, he threw his head over the bucket as his mouth watered and his stomach muscles painfully clenched as he retched up more vile smelling liquid. The smell alone was enough to set him off again and he gasped in pain as the dry heaving set in once again.

This was definitely the worst part, having no control over your muscles as they betrayed you with pain and breathtaking agony. The force of the retching caused more tears to trail down Jim's cheeks and he tried several times to put the bucket down, failing miserably at every attempt.

Eventually, the second bout of dry heaves stopped and Jim found that the pain had receded again. He placed the bucket down on the floor and slowly relaxed into his pillow, lying deadly still in order to avoid any more mishaps. His pillow felt so soft and comforting to his heavy head and before he knew it, his eyelids closed and he fell into a light sleep clutching onto the warm quilt.

**********

Jim opened his eyes exactly five minutes before his alarm was due to go off. It was often frustrating when that happened and he groaned slightly at the loss of extra sleep. He ran a hand over his warm face and scrubbed the last remnants of sleep from his eyes as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. The pain in his stomach ebbed dangerously but Jim knew that he was in no danger of being sick in the very near future.

The lights were still glowing softly from earlier on and he shed the covers, lazily standing up. "Lights eighty per cent," he commanded. The lights immediately became brighter, lighting the room in the harsh white light. The sudden change in lighting combined with standing up caused Jim to experience a brief moment of dizziness and he supported himself against the wall until the nauseating dizziness settled.

Jim trudged his way into the bathroom, panting slightly at the effort of walking not even ten steps. He was exhausted. How was he going to cope with an entire shift? He looked down briefly before gaining the courage to look at his reflection in the mirror. He looked terrible. His skin was pale and slightly mottled apart from a rosy fevered blush and perspiration was gathering at his golden hairline. His normally bright blue eyes were dull and glassy and perhaps a little red rimmed. Damn, only a blind person would fail to notice his apparent illness. Bones wasn't blind.

He sighed in frustration as he turned on the shower and shed his sticky pyjamas, letting the warm tendrils of steam engulf his exhausted body. As soon as the hot water cascaded down his back, he knew that he was quickly losing the strength to stand and accepted the fact that he would have to sit down rather than fall down.

The pain in his stomach was still intense and the pounding of the hot water although calming, was not doing much to help relieve it. He sat there for a little while longer before reaching up to turn off the water and scooting an inch to grab a fluffy towel from the rail next to the shower door. He had exactly twenty minutes before his shift started.

Jim dressed as quickly as he could, pulling on his gold Starfleet uniform shirt and brushing his teeth at the same time, as he usually did. It had now been a little over an hour since he had last been sick and he felt…not too great. Although he hadn't vomited, the cramps in his abdomen were stabbing and pulsing through him and it was taking every last ounce of his sheer control and determination to not double over. This sucked.

When Jim noticed that there was ten minutes until his shift started, he tested himself walking a couple of steps and nearly groaned in dismay when he felt like he needed to sit down. He was Captain James T. Kirk, no illness would hold him down. This was the Captain who would turn up to his shift with a broken leg and half an arm missing. This was nothing. Or at least he tried to convince himself it was nothing. Nausea rolled over him again as he refused to give in to his bodies current weakness and strode out of his quarters, leaving the doors to whoosh behind him.

Jim arrived on the bridge with two minutes to spare. Although the walk from his quarters to the bridge was not an overly long one, he felt like had just run a marathon. Twice. He tried to control his breathing and sneakily ran his sleeve over his perspiring forehead before almost collapsing into the Captain's chair. He had to stop numerous times on the way as the overwhelming sensation to gag had caught him out. Jim hated feeling so weak and useless; he hadn't felt this bad in a long time.

He could hear a faint buzzing and smiled to himself when he unconsciously compared it to the buzzing of bees. Jim didn't even register that Spock was analysing him and he mentally slapped himself as he realised that the Vulcans sharp eyes would not miss much. No, they would miss nothing. "Good morning Mister Spock," said a faraway voice that, after a brief moment, Jim recognised as his own.

God his stomach hurt. It felt like someone was kicking him repeatedly, cursing him for even existing. He really needed to be sick but swallowed the feeling in order to save face. "Good morning Captain," Spock's smooth voice interrupted his thoughts. Jim looked up to Spock's pale, flawless face and internally cringed under the Vulcans scrutiny. Spock analysed his every detail, eyebrow arched before selecting his next words. "Captain," here it comes, "you're physical state of health indicates that you are obviously unwell. It would be…illogical to continue this shift."

Jim sustained the urge to roll his eyes at his First Officers astute findings. "I'm okay Spock, just a bit of a restless night. I'll be fine." At Spock's last statement all of the crew had looked up expectantly at the Captain with interest. Great, now everyone else was going to notice how crap he looked. "Captain-" Spock began but was quickly cut off by Jim.

"I said I'm fine Spock. Let's get to work people."

He hated being short with the crew but he was really hurting and the nausea was swallowing him whole. He could feel Spock's gaze burning into the back of his head and tried to make his face scarce in that direction. "Captain," the voice of his pilot Hikaru Sulu broke his train of thoughts and realising that Sulu wanted to see him over the other side of the bridge, he internally groaned.

Jim staggered to his feet and gasped in surprise when the pain in his stomach intensified and his legs threatened to collapse. He grabbed his chair to support himself but couldn't help it when he lost his control and bent over double, spattering vomit all over the floor. He was absolutely mortified and he closed his eyes as he gagged again. He groaned as he opened his eyes and took in the mixed looks of sympathy and disgust from his crew.

As he opened his mouth to tell them politely to get on with their jobs, the faint buzzing became louder and his vision blackened around the edges. It was funny, people were talking to him but he couldn't hear a word of what they were saying. An extreme bout of dizziness consumed Jim as his legs finally buckled and the ground rushed up to meet his face. His last conscious thought was the hope that he hadn't landed in his vomit.

Everyone gasped and started to panic when they realised that their Captain was unconscious. Spock immediately slipped into the role of Acting Captain and was doing his best to restore some order to the chaotic bridge. He walked over to Jim and placed his fingers on his neck, checking for a pulse. It was there but was very slow.

"Miss Uhura," he calmly called to the Communications Officer. "Please contact Doctor McCoy." Uhura nodded silently and did as she was asked. She dialled directly to the doctors' communicator and felt a rush of relief when he answered almost immediately. The gruff voice of Leonard McCoy was soon coming through the speakers of her station. "McCoy," he answered.

"Dr McCoy, Lieutenant Uhura speaking. There's been an incident on the bridge and we need some assistance. It's the Captain…he's collapsed."

**Wow that's a really long chapter but I'm glad the background stuff is up. I tried to make it as realistic as I can at 1 AM and if there are any mistakes please, please let me know. I have never fainted before so I don't know what it's like. I also feel like the end is a bit rushed but it's the best I can do for now. Thank you so much for your support, all ideas are welcome! Update coming soon.**


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER:**  
**I do not in any way own or take claim to any of the Star Trek characters or plots. I just use the characters to satisfy my imagination.**

**WOW WOW WOW! I can't believe the response that this story is getting. It makes me so happy to think that you all love it because I've never done anything like this before. This chapter is Jim and Bones packed with some whump and fluff. Even though Kirk is totally badass, I like to exploit his emotional side because it's impossible to not feel fear and insecurity. Please let me know of any mistakes and I will endeavour to correct them. A lot of upsetting things have happened this week that have caused a lack of motivation with my writing and its quality so I am not overly happy with this chapter...my Bones is not as grumpy as he normally would be, I just found it really hard to capture his true nature for some reason. I am now also back at school so updates will be less frequent.  
**

**To my anonymous reviewer who supplied the very interesting and completely sensible opinion about the mask, I actually agree 100% with you and couldn't think of a logical reason why I put it like that…thank you very much and it will move me to check what I've actually written is correct in the future.**

**Please keep the criticism coming people!  
**

The soft whoosh of the bridge doors and the harried, almost sprinted, steps of Leonard McCoy filled the near silent bridge. The dark haired doctor immediately spotted the slumped form of Jim Kirk on the cold floor near the captain's chair. He dropped the medkit next to the unconscious captain as he crouched down.

"What happened?" he growled, trying to mask his worry, as his long fingers pressed against Jim's neck, finding his pulse the old fashioned way. Spock, assuming that the question was aimed at him answered in his smooth calm voice. "Captain Kirk appeared to be suffering from an unidentified ailment when he arrived for duty approximately seven point two minutes ago doctor. Upon reassurances that he was 'fine', he promptly collapsed when he rose to an increased level of altitude."

McCoy produced a small penlight from his person and gently pried one of Jim's eyelids open, flashing the bright light to test a response. Satisfied at the result of the pupils constricting, he lifted his head and acknowledged Spock's statement. "You mean he fainted when he stood up." Christ, why couldn't the man speak normally?

"Affirmative doctor," the Vulcan replied with a curt nod. McCoy grunted in acknowledgement and turned his attention back to Jim, taking in his sickly appearance. He laid a gentle hand on his young friends' feverish brow and frowned when he felt the unnatural heat that radiated from it. Tiny beads of perspiration clung to his pale but feverish skin and his expression showed signs of pain even in his unconscious state. His breathing was light and shallow and he looked…almost peaceful, like an innocent child. Well, to be honest he looked like crap as well but Jim Kirk reminded Bones of a lost child at times.

Bones was just about to whip out his handy tricorder when a soft groan emitted from the body beside him. "Jim? Come on Jim, open your eyes," he gently murmured Jims eyes scrunched together before fluttering open slightly, revealing two slivers of glassy blue.

" 'ones?.." Jim slurred as his eyes began to squint in the harsh light of the bridge. He let out another soft groan as he became more aware of his aching body. His head was pounding incessantly, like someone was hammering nails into his skull and his stomach felt tender from his earlier bout of vomiting. Every part of his exhausted body felt detached and weighted, he was so tired.

"Yeah, I'm here kid." Bones softly replied as he searched the normally mischievous bright blue eyes.  
"Bones…it hurts…" Jim whimpered as he lazily pulled a sluggish hand up to clutch at his stomach, wincing as the smallest amount of pressure made him feel sick. Bones tried to hide his frantic concern when Jim first of all whimpered…and then admitted to pain! Jim never readily admitted to pain and when he did Bones knew that he was really suffering.

Jim scrunched his eyes shut as he freely admitted his discomfort to his best friend. The pain was incredible and he was struggling to breathe as it consumed him. The pain brought more nausea and he struggled to keep his stomach calm, not wanting to relive the events of earlier. "What happened?..." he whispered as he grabbed onto the sleeve off Bones' blue Starfleet shirt.

"It's alright Jim, just relax," Bones soothed in his comforting southern drawl as he pulled the hand from his sleeve and placed it on the younger mans chest briefly before turning to the medkit beside him and locating a hypospray. When he had loaded a cartridge into it he gently pressed it against Jims neck, recognising the soft hiss as the pain killers immediately began to take effect. "Nnnngh" Jim groaned in relief as the drugs took the edge off of the stabbing pain both his head and stomach. There was so much he wanted to say but his brain had turned to slush and he began to feel extremely tired.

Bones replaced the empty hypo and quenched his need for answers as to why Jim had collapsed; the younger man was in no state to be answering anything apart from yes or no questions. "That should help a bit Jim," he said as Jim visibly relaxed and let his eyelids droop until they were closed. He had given Jim a strong pain killer that would hopefully help with the pain.

Jim sighed in relief as the pain was instantly lessened. Bones had obviously given him the strong stuff, it felt good and he briefly felt the sensation of floating. He really wanted to get up and tell Bones he was fine but for some reason his brain was doing the exact opposite.

"So tired Bones…don't wanna sleep" he murmured as he felt sleep tugging at the corner of his consciousness. The doctor smiled as he stroked his hand through the sweaty golden hair just once as his friend tried to fight the sleepiness that the drugs were inducing. "Don't fight it Jim, I'll be here when you wake up," he comforted as the effort to stay awake faded and Jim finally succumbed to sleep.

Bones waited until his friend was fully asleep before moving him. He was anxious to get Jim down to Medical so he could diagnose and treat him properly but was currently unsure of the best way to get him down there. Sighing, he decided that he quickest way was to carry him and gently slipped one arm under his friends neck and the other under his knees, scooping him up in a protective embrace. He was met with the inquisitive look of Spock as he straightened up. "I'll take the Captain down to Medical now, Spock," he addressed the Vulcan as he turned away, not waiting for an answer.

**I feel like this is a weird place to end this chapter but I just couldn't find anything else to write. Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up soon for you all to enjoy. As I said before, I 'm not completely satisfied with this but it was the best that I could do. Till next time!**


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